She Knit on Me

(Thursday August 21, 2008)

Back when we were at Elk Lake in Oregon, I met a waitress. Real cute, plain, nice butt, long legs - had to go for it.

It wasn't just the looks that did it though. A long time even before that at the Drakesbad Ranch outside of Chester, CA dwelled a Slovenian named Spela. Just being from Slovenia was enough for me with the hot Eastern European accent, but she had the long dark hair, legs that could have wrapped around my head three and a half times and a stomach that resembles the Mojave desert in two distinct ways - hot and flat.

I tell Neighbor that I'm in love with this girl and in good old Neighbor fashion he immediately tells her what I said. On top of that he suggests that I become her husband and get her a green card.

Totally embarassed I pull into my shell like a scared turtle and act like a timid fool. Meanwhile she's serving me food and beer while calling me "my future husband." Flirting or joking? Who knows. The only certifiable fact is that I blew the situation entirely, failing to ask her to have a drink with me at the hot tub later that night.

I can certify that blown chance because Boomer, a guy I've been hiking with for a bit, did just that. Got her going talking about volleyball (guess she was big into that back in the USSR) and now she emails him about once a week and has included bikini pics...

Motherfreaker!

Also she's meeting him in San Diego before she heads back to Europe. Yet another stab in the heart, sledgehammer to the toe, gunshot to the knee.

So I blew it and for the next 600 miles was self flagellating and wearing a hair shirt. So I had to go for it. Couldn't dig myself another hole and wallow in it until Canada.

Made small talk, flirting as she made me a milkshake.

Unfortunately she was really busy so it was hard to get much in edgewise after that. But I got to her at the bar later on.

"Excuse me ma'am, I'd like to get some service."

She comes over. "Yes?"

"Well I came in here to talk to you, but you've been running around ever since."

She had a slightly embarassed look on her face, but we got to chatting for a couple minutes and she said I should come up to the employees cabin when she gets off of work, to meet her at the restaurant at 9:00pm.

It rained the night before we got to Elk Lake so we had our stuff out drying on the deck and a band was coming to set up. I went to leave and go move it, but she caught me at the door.

"Are you leaving?"
"No, I'm just going to move my stuff off the deck. I'll be back."
"Good."

At that moment I thought I was in. I was the intriguing hiker blowing through town and she was the innocent summer help caught off guard by some sweet talking.

Then closing time came.

I get there and try to go in...the door is locked. I knock, someone answers the door and I ask for her. The door answerer smiles, revealing that I had been mentioned a time or two, but when she came to the door I could tell the gossip was not "I hope my prince will come!" More like "What if he shows up?"

"Hey..."
"Hi..."
"So..."
"You could come in here until we're finished cleaning up. Or you could wait outside if you want."

After that promising start and some awkward small talk with her coworkers (a.k.a. I didn't give a shit what they were saying), we left and went up to the cabin.

Two couches in the living room, two guys on one, we plop down on the other and start watching...ugh...Revenge of the Nerds III (known by other titles including: Just Hurry Up and Give Me the Goddamn Paycheck, My Acting Career Wasn't Supposed to Take This Shitty Turn, and Please Bore This Girl to Death So She'll Suggest We Go Upstairs and Disrobe). That Oscar winner was followed up by another trashbag, this time a low budget mafia flick called Mobsters about Lucky Luciano (played by Christian Slater, a logical choice).

Two movies you ask? Well, I decided to stick around, torturing myself through a double cinematic bull whipping, because after she started knitting, I didn't want to leave immediately and look like a total dirtbag.

Knitting. She was knitting a goddamn scarf. A fucking scarf! Knitting a fucking scarf on the couch while Revenge of the Nerds III is on.
Even worse is that because I pretended that I was okay with the situation, I tried making conversation to ease some of the awkwardness, but was completely dumbfounded and could think of nothing. Well, I could think of nothing that wouldn't have belittled and shamed her, so instead I sat in silence watching the movie.

The situation was further compounded by the fact that the way the TV and our couch were oriented, her body blocked most of the screen, so I had to sit sideways and stick my head out just to get a clear view. This also made it look like I was staring her in the face.

A special thanks goes out to the two guys on the other couch. A drowning man off the port bow of your schooner calls for a lifeline and you sit sipping beer and staring like zombies into the distance. Your assistance was much appreciated.

Finally she said she was tired and going up to bed. There are many things I could have said or done here, but continuing the theme of the evening, none were said or done.

I took my leave and walked in the dark up to our cabin, thinking of the wonderful assortment of dirty deeds we could have done together, and trying to figure out where on the surreal scale that situation ranked.

The next morning when I recountred the tale for the rest of the crew, I was given a sage piece of advice: "You should have stuck around, man. That thing was probably a cock sock."